A Number of Kisses
by sharpie.fiend
Summary: "Perin, her most persistent swain, had kissed her a number of times since Midwinter..." The barrier's collapse threw everything into uncertainty, even the bonds between people. What springs up between the gaps? Cannon timeline.
1. Chapter 2

The morning the barrier fell, the king decreed that the Seventh Night Ball, to be held three days hence, would be open to every member of the palace staff as well. He was of course assuming that every knight, soldier, and mage would be on the walls fighting back an advancing horde of spidrens, centaurs, and stormwings, but Thayet had prepared for a ball so by the gods there was going to be a ball. Of the council members, he sternly ordered them to be present at every function with smiling faces, supposing there was no host at the gates. Daine, smiling, thought she'd most likely be able to escape the panoply for once. She had to bite her lip when she saw the same wistful gleam in Raoul's eyes.

That afternoon, the sun shone pearly through fine wipsy clouds, then disappeared all together as heavier bands ghosted in. By the time Daine scowlingly acknowledged that she had no excuse to run off, several inches of fine powder covered the palace. The temperature was dropping. As she shook the snow from her heavy work coat, she admitted that the swirling talking drinking masses would at least make the grand space warm. Right now she just wanted to stop shivering.

Breathless, curls piled haphazardly on top her head, still slightly damp, Daine was one of the last people into the banquet hall. She cheered up considerably when she realized the page was leading her to a seat next to Numair. Before Carthak she was rarely seated with him, now here was the third time in a row. Maybe Thayet realized that she never liked formal functions because she was always either bored to death or ended up scaring some young buck to death.

When he saw Daine approach, Numair thought Thayet was congnizantly torturing him. Daine glowed in blue satin, warm not from a fur stole but a brocade surcoat. He then spared a moment of panic wondering if Thayet knew and if she knew how many other people knew? _She lit up when she saw me_. No, the only one responsible for this torment was his self. He clenched his fists on his thighs and fought to control his expression, but he winced as his sore hands protested. So of course this was the first thing Daine noticed when she sat down.

"Are you feeling the weather?" She asked softly.

He spread his swollen fingers. "I can hardly hold a spoon. This is going to be some storm."

"You know, maybe you should stop cracking your knuckles."

Now she was frowning again, Numair could have kicked himself. So he teased, "Yes and that'll be the day you can pop _your_ fingers." He grinned when she wrinkled her nose at him.

"I'd think twice before I started throwing flaws around, master mage," she said loftily.

"Yes, I'd tread carefully, Numair, unless you want everyone to hear what _you_ were like as a student!" Lindhall brought a laugh from the rest of the table.

Daine blinked, off balance, as she realized she hadn't even noticed they were there. Quickly, she said, "Oh please Lindhall, take pity, Numair is under orders to only show smiles. He might be too hard pressed to oblige! Now, if you still feel like telling me, pull me aside during the ball." The rest of the table laughed.

"Pray tell, Numair, what would bring a smile, so we can all avoid the descent of kingly displeasure?" asked the old mage next to Harailt.

He exaggeratedly brought a pondering finger to his nose and said, "Hm…a clear night, a warm blanket, and an active meteor shower." While laughing, Lindhall couldn't help but notice the quick grins Daine and Numair gave each other. Discussion waxed academic throughout the meal, but ever polite or esoteric. Tkaa and Kitten provided knowledge or theatrics whenever conversation lagged, even their friendly presence was reassuring. No one brought up immortals or barriers.

After the third course, Daine had enough of watching Numair pick at his food. She nudged his foot and murmured, "You need to eat, you more than anybody." When he met her eyes, she read the barely concealed stress there and took action. She spoke quietly with the page when he came to collect their plates, and when he returned he carried a bowl of soup and a basket of bread. His quiet smile was all the gratification she needed.

Eight courses later, with the grand desert, the page carried a steaming pitcher to the table. "Emperor Kaddar's Midwinter gift to Tortall, sirs and lady, coffee from the south of Ilinat." He poured steaming black liquid into the heavy ceramic cups that Daine had wondered about for eleven courses.

"Coffee!" Numair and Lindhall exclaimed. Daine hid a smile. She was about to take a sip when she saw them both reach for sugar and Numair for cream as well.

"My goodness what a gift," Lindhall sighed after his first sip.

Daine made a face and added more cream and sugar.

"We'll all be dancing tonight," Numair added happily.

"Why?" Daine was suddenly worried, she avoided alcohol and normally Numair did as well.

"Coffee contains a stimulant—no, don't worry it doesn't affect judgement," he explained. "Though if you drink too much you won't be able to sleep."

Lindhall put in, "That'd be about a whole pitcher's worth, though."

"Ah coffee, to you I owe my university robe," Numair declared with another sip. Lindhall swallowed a laugh.

When the king and queen rose, Numair was weighing his options—get deeply involved in some scholastic debate in a corner or just hide behind the hangings. He wasn't going to dance with her and he _definitely _wasn't going to watch her dance with anyone else. They found Alanna in a nook, a carefully pleasant expression pasted on. She did look truly pleased to see them though.

"Did Jon order you here too?" Daine asked, knowing how much Alanna had been looking forward to Midwinter at the Swoop.

"Yes. Let's give him some smiling faces." Together they smiled sweetly at the throne before scowling at each other. Then they laughed. "I made it to Corus just as it started snowing. Of all the things I _could _be doing, I have to sit here and keep up some daft pretense. At least you have someone to dance with, I made George stay at the Swoop." The music started, she flapped her hands at them to go.

Numair resolved to put crushed Kyprish peppers in her riding gloves.

Daine sniffed and said, "So that's how it goes, I come to say hullo and already you're trying to get rid of me."

Alanna cackled. "No, but Jon wants you visible. So be visible. Then you can come back and keep me company."

Numair heaved a long suffering sigh. "All right Magelet; let's go be conspicuously care-free and cheery." He held out his arm to her with an ironic bow.

When they reached the dance floor, Daine tried hard not to think about his hand on her waist.

Numair tried hard not to think about the fact that she was wearing the earrings he gave her last Midwinter.

After several silent moments, Daine said, "It's crazy to think that people are reassured because _we're_ here."

Numair looked down in surprise, then grinned. "You know Magelet, you're right. If they had any sense, they'd be worried!"

Daine stepped on his foot and said, "Oh hush you."

"Well I hope you're not having a crisis of confidence, otherwise I'll be forced to compliment you…and we _know _that won't be pretty."

She bit her lip, and Numair bit his tongue. "Not a crisis of confidence, no," she mused softly, "but it's sure something." He gently squeezed her hand, and the song drew to a close. He quickly let her go, and tried to ignore her confused blink.

He once again held out his arm. "I'm not about to have the Lioness come looking for us." Halfway back to the Lioness' lair, Numair noticed Lindhall watching them from a corner. He murmered to Daine, "You go ahead; I need to see to something." He weaved through the crowd, taking a proffered glass of wine from a squire.

When he reached the bar table, Lindhall raised his eyebrows. "Why are you in this nook and not another?" Lindhall asked.

Numair, mid sip, _mrph_ed into his wineglass.

"You can't tell me you're still just friends," Lindhall muttered in exasperation.

Numair appealed to the ceiling, "Is everyone a mind reader these days?"

At that moment, Daine was led back to the floor by some young knight. Numair quickly stared into his glass.

"Mind reader? No." Lindhall said quietly, "But I wish you could see the difference in her expression, between now and when she's in your arms."

Numair's head snapped up. "She. Is. My. Student." He practically growled.

Lindhall delicately raised his eyebrows again. "And when, pray tell, was her last lesson?" When Numair blinked, trying to think, Lindhall said, "Ah, that's what I thought. Let me tell you something your out-of-proportion sense of propriety has kept you from figuring out yourself—relationships change. To be a teacher is in itself a transient position. Am I still your teacher? No. I'm your colleague, your friend. Indeed I would say Daine is even more your colleague than I am." Seeing Numair's questioning glance, he explained, "Yes I'm also a scholar, but I'm not the one galavanting all over the country on missions. Tortall owes much of what little peace it has to you two." Recognizing his former student's expression, Lindhall sighed. "But there's nothing I can say that'd make up your mind. Have fun with that." He patted Numair's shoulder and walked away.

The remaining mage stared into his half empty wineglass. Lindhall was right in many ways, but it wasn't just that he had been Daine's teacher for years; it was that she was only sixteen. _But she's already an adult. _Only sixteen! _In the city she'd already be celebrating her first or second anniversary. _What, marriage now? At that thought, even Numair's hopeful self quailed. Down that road lay pain. He banished the concept from this current argument. _Lindhall said…maybe she really does light up…not just imagining_. Could he objectively gauge her reactions? _Not really_. Oh hush you. He would try.

When he looked up, there were fewer people in the ballroom. Had that much time passed? He looked for Daine and saw her conversing with a group of her Rider friends. Leaving the half empty glass of wine on the bar table, he headed towards her. When she saw him coming, she bade farewell to her friends and met him halfway.

"Goddess, Numair, what have you been up to!" Daine called, still flushed with laughter. "You haven't moved since you went to talk to Lindhall."

"Oh he gave me something to ponder." Gods above, she was beautiful.

"Something to brood about, more like. Is everything alright?" She made a face and amended, "I mean, what were you thinking about?"

"Just…how accuratly people can learn to read facial expressions and body language." Change the topic _now!_ "Where's Alanna?"

Daine grinned, "Oh she left as soon as Raoul, then Buri did. I was actually just getting ready to head out too. Gods forbid we get attacked in the morning."

Numair cringed and said, "That's good thinking. I do believe I'll follow in your stead." Together they headed out into the cold corridor.

Daine kept the surprise from her face, thinking _he hasn't taken a lover since Va—since coming back from Carthak. _She would _not_ wonder about to what meaning.

They both walked in ponderous silence until they had to part ways, their rooms being in separate buildings. They stopped, stared at each other, and both laughed a little at themselves. Numair dragged a hand down his face and groaned, "Gods what a day. Has it only been one day?"

Daine's eyes widened. "It _has_ only been one day." She paused, both lingering. "Numair what do you think is going to happen? I mean, when?"

He tucked a stray lock behind her ear. "I don't know Magelet. This storm should buy us some time, but…"

"Yes. But." Suddenly, Daine threw her arms around him, he hugged her tightly back. She kissed his cheek and said, "Midwinter luck." Just as quickly, she let go and was walking away.

Numair stood shocked still for a moment, then called, "Daine!"

She turned. "What?"

"It's a blizzard out there!"

She just looked at him for a moment, then threw her hands up and laughed. "Odds bobs Numair, the stable is just across the yard!" Seeing his expression, she added, "If I get buried I'll send a cat after you. Good night!"

"At least—wait." He caught up with her and dug into a pocket. Handing her a stone, he said, "At least take this, you'll stay warm and out of the wind."

Her eyes shone up at him in the dim corridor. "Thank you Numair." He couldn't help but kiss her cheek in return before turning away.

Shaking his head at his own folly, he made his way up to his rooms. His wards recognized him and as the door opened, a tabby wound its way around his legs. Smiling, he picked the cat up and closed the door behind him.


	2. Chapter real 2

It had to have been Kaddar's coffee that kept her awake all night. Daine tossed and turned but her nerves were buzzing. Despite her bravado, she was very glad for Numair's charm, since the weather was only getting worse. The winds were gale force and the snow would have blinded her. Once inside the stables, surrounded by slumbering horses, she pocketed the stone and sent her awareness into the palace. The least she could do was reassure him that she made it safe and sound. Smiling when the cat purred, she climbed the stairs to her loft. She took off her ridiculous finery and snuggled into her blankets, letting her friends pile in, but soon even the most loving puppy jumped down as she shifted from one frustrated position to the next.

Of course mention of Kaddar had reminded her of Carthak. Carthak meant waking nightmares. Knowing they'd be soon be fighting an entire realm's worth of hungry man-hunters rearing to break a millennia's fast did nothing for her nerves. This was worse than the siege of the Swoop.

Daine slapped her pillow flat.

"_He was executed yesterday."_ And she was back in that empty echoing blackness. She wrenched her mind away, instead focused on being held tight. Just like earlier in the hallway, she focused on him being alive.

Then why this despair?

Daine wasn't normally given to introspection; usually she was so busy she fell right asleep and rarely dreamt. She knew she was tired, her limbs felt heavy, but…

She wished she was curvy.

Taller.

Older.

At that she sat up. Enough of this, she told herself firmly, and her disciplined mind drifted into a meditative calm. Her heart slowed, _but didn't stop._

"_You fiend!" Being shaken, held tight._

Daine clamped down again on her mind. Slowly, she became still. Finally she slept.

The next day began without catastrophe, but the weak winter light barely broke through the storm clouds. Daine had to trudge through knee deep snow and waist deep drifts, shivering violently without the aid of the charm. After breakfast, she met with Onua and Buri, helping with war preparations. So their great minds could be used uninterrupted for strategy, Daine took the supply orders to the quartermaster. Even though the offices were traditionally closed for Midwinter, with all the activity, the suppliers were staying open. She knew the clerk who worked there, just past his apprenticeship, and despite the upheaval it was always nice to see him.

It was always nice to be with people who didn't find her unnatural.

Perin was her age, barely an inch taller, and stocky. He had short, sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes. She had met him on his first day at the quartermaster's office, when her kind smile and patience gave him confidence. Today, when she handed him Buri's orders, she asked, "Are you going to the ball tomorrow?" Since being invited to a ball was the topic on every staff members' minds.

His eyes lit up, and he swallowed visibly. "I am…you don't have an escort already, do you?"

Daine blinked, she'd been actually escorted come to think of it. She shook her head.

"Would you—" He squeaked and coughed, "Would you like me to be your escort?"

Truly, she was flattered. Daine smiled brightly and said, "It would be an honor." Thank goodness Thayet taught her the customary responses so she wouldn't have to stumble over her own tongue.

Perin beamed. "Then I'll be waiting for you at the door."

They paused, staring at each other, before Daine said, "Well, I best get back. See you!" She hurried off, blushing.

Of course, Onua noticed. When they sat down at lunch, she asked, "Okay girl-child, why were you blushing when you came back?"

Daine thought her ears might catch fire. Buri noticed and laughed wolfishly. "Don't let her tell you 'nothing, oh nothing' because by the looks of it, it wasn't nothing."

"It _was_ nothing," Daine insisted, "Perin asked me to the ball tomorrow."

Evin put a hand over her heart and sighed, "Awww. That's adorable." Miri hit him with a long breadstick.

Daine wrinkled her nose at him. "Come on, Ev, it's just nice to have someone who doesn't think I'm a freak."

"But Daine," Evin said solemnly, "You _are_ a freak."

Miri squawked, but Daine just laughed and said, "_You're _the one who has to put up with him."

Buri, still chuckling, said, "Ah no, you shouldn't've said anything in public, Daine. Now Thayet's going to corner you."

Daine's face fell. "Oh no. No Buri, it's bad enough she gave me those gowns this autumn, I don't _need_ any more help."

"Unfortunately, this is Thayet's idea of fun."

That night, Daine felt she had successfully managed to avoid the queen. The storm continued unabated, so it appeared that the Seventh Night Ball would include everyone. Daine almost wished Thayet a headache, if it meant she could avoid the attention. Then she felt guilty. Anticipation for the next night made that night draw. She made sure to _not_ partake in any of Kaddar's coffee. Instead, she laughed internally at the conservatives' umbrage at the thought of mingling with servants and listened to their plans of quiet private parties in their own suites.

"Not…so…fast, Daine."

Daine, trying to escape the Rider mess within a throng of boisterous rookies, cringed. Thayet, still in ordinary clothes, threw an arm around Daine's shoulders. "You have a swain! Don't you want to impress him tonight?"

"Well, yes but I don't want to not be me."

Thayet waved a hand. "Remember what you told me after you got back from Carthak?"

"You mean the part where I tore down a palace for being displeased?"

Thayet deliberately ignored that. "You told me that you realized a gorgeous gown gives you confidence."

"But, your Majesty, I already _have_ such gowns, and I really don't want to take up your time."

Thayet hugged her around the shoulders and let her arm drop. "Don't be silly, dear. This is going to be the highlight of my day. Come on."

Daine's fears of plunging necklines and tightly cinched corsets were unfounded. In fact, she half assumed that Thayet didn't trust the man, because the neckline was above her collarbone and Thayet criss-crossed yards of gold ribbon from just under her bust to her hips. The fabric was amazing, though, a shimmering mauve that hinted gold as it moved. Her arms were bared by split sleeves.

Thayet beamed at her in the mirror. "You are going to set a precedent tonight. This is actually a revival of the Old Ones' dress. Myles found the evidence, but he's more interested in pots and pans."

Daine turned to her queen. "I know I kicked up a fuss earlier, but thank you thank you. This is gorgeous."

Thayet's eye crinkled with mirth. "Oh I'm not done with you yet, dear."

Curls once more piled on top of her head, silk slippers ghosting across the cold stones, Daine reached the inner courtyard before the largest ballroom. Tonight, instead of a feast, there would just be passed dainties and drinks. She stood by the fountain, but couldn't find Perin in the crowd.

"Daine?" She turned and saw Numair, black robe billowing around him, and wearing what looked like an expression of awe.

She beamed at him as he came over to her. "Hullo Numair. Did you just get out from a pile of books? You've got a bit of dust on your cheek." She reached up to clean it off.

He blushed faintly and made a show of rolling his shoulders, drawling, "Yes, I've only just escaped. Though why Jon thinks I'll be able to replace the barrier is beyond me." He stopped and said, "Forgive me; gods know we've been at war council all day. For now though...Mithros bless you look very pretty."

Daine grinned, remembering what he said to her before docking in Carthak, and waved at her gown. "Thayet got to me."

"Yes but she can't take all the credit." He offered her an arm with a bow. "Shall we go in?"

But instead of smiling with a curtsy, she blushed and looked down. "I'm sorry Numair, I told Perin I'd meet him here."

His eyebrows contracted. "Pe--? No, no Daine don't apologize."

She looked up at him, met his eyes for a moment, then—

"Daine!" Perin hurried over, flushed and puffing. Numair bowed to Daine and walked into the ballroom. She watched him go in confusion. "Daine I'm sorry I'm late, the tailor's was a madhouse."

She looked at Perin, wearing a new blue tunic, and smiled at him. "Don't worry Perin, I only just got here too. You ready?" He nodded, nervous, and she took his arm.

"Whatever you do, don't drink the coffee," she said with a grin.

Perin was confused. "What's coffee?"

"Oh Kaddar sent some up as a Midwinter gift. It's a drink, but it'll keep you up all night."

"The—the emperor of Carthak?" Perin seemed slightly taken aback.

Daine nodded as she realized how odd it must seem to be on first name terms with an emperor. Quickly, she asked, "Have you ever been in this room?"

Perin shook his head, trying not to gawp. This ballroom held more than three hundred people, its vast, high ceiling painted with depictions of the realms of the gods, lit by a great chandelier and hundreds of wall sconces, light reflected in the many tall windows.

A page passed carrying a platter of smoked trout and cream cheese on crackers, Daine and Perin each took one. Another page carried a tray of white wine, Perin took two glasses and handed her one. Daine wanted to resist, but didn't want to seem rude. Other trays held sausages wrapped in pastry, olives wrapped in bacon, finger sandwiches, and hot chocolate or mulled cider. She saw Alanna and Buri talking on a couch, Evin and Miri already dancing, and Numair holding Kitten up to closer inspect the crystals hanging from a wall sconce.

She smiled and turned to her partner. "Are any of your friends here, Perin?"

"Yes, I think I see Sean and Connor over there."

At that moment, the fanfare sounded as Jon and Thayet entered the ballroom. Everyone stopped to bow or curtsy until they reached their thrones. When they sat, activity resumed. Perin pulled Daine over to meet his friends.

"Pretty soon we're going to be attending a wedding."

Numair started as Alanna sidled up next to him. They both watched Daine dance with the young clerk. To cover the sinking feeling in his chest, he tried to turn a joke. "Yes well, if she finds a husband before I find a wife, I might go into a recline."

Alanna cocked her head and drawled, "Well—if she did, it'd only be your fault."

"What?" It was all Numair could do to keep from shrieking.

The Lioness rolled her eyes. "One might argue that I proposed to George—I like to think I just accepted a few years late—but it's still common practice for the man to do the asking, laddybuck. That's what."

He made some non-committal hmph and debated several moments before asking, "So do you think he's the one then?"

Alanna narrowed her eyes and said, "I don't know about that, but the way he keeps plying her with alcohol we might not see but one other option. I just hope she has the charm."

"Alanna!" Numair clenched his eyes shut, trying furiously to block the thought of Daine going to bed with that clerk.

"Well _I_ don't know, does she?"

"Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith, why would I know _that_?"

"You're her best friend, plus I figured if she did have one she'd need to find a way to not lose it between shifting. You're the one who'd know about that sort of thing."

"Gods Alanna, no we've never discussed it—now I'm completely paranoid."

"Oh! Goddess, here she comes, act natural."

Numair looked down his nose at his friend and threatened, "I'm going to throw you out a window."

Daine came over and hugged Alanna, who whispered up into the girl's ear. Daine threw back her head and barked out a laugh, before whispering something right back. Numair felt Alanna relax. He couldn't.

Daine turned to Numair, "Where's Kitten? I saw you showing her the sparklies earlier."

He laughed. "Tkaa took her, she's playing with the jewels on the thrones." Indeed, Kitten was sitting in Thayet's lap, making the gems in her gown glow different colors.

They both paused, waiting for the other to speak. Alanna, looking from one to the other, edged away, mumbling something about crowds.

Daine took a mug of mulled cider from a page, sniffing it with relief. "Thank gods I had you teach me slight of hand."

Numair's eyebrows shot up. "I should have hoped you wouldn't have to avoid loaded toasts so soon after the last time." After Ozorne drugged her with manners, Numair taught her how to move suspect liquids.

She rubbed her temple, saying, "No no, nothing spiked, but Perin's being so nervously polite he keeps handing me wine."

Doubting the clerk's motives were based in complacence, Numair fought to keep his face neutral. "Well at least we know you're perfectly capable."

They again came to a charged silence. The window next to them rattled in the gale. Daine looked but saw only their reflection. "You don't think this storm is brought on by the Dominion Jewel, do you?"

Numair met her gaze in the reflection, "I know this isn't Jon's working. It's _possible_ that the Jewel is exerting some influence on the severity of the storm…but it's far more likely that we're just finally getting a stroke of luck."

"Luck?" Daine asked as she finished her cider. "What's luck?" That brought out the grin she was looking for. She was worried because he had been so grim all evening, and she was wondering what he knew that she didn't. He would barely look at her.

At that moment, Daine saw Perin walk back into the room. "See you, Numair."

He just nodded.

Later, after much dancing and talking and not drinking, once Daine mentioned the real possibility that she needed to be up at dawn, they left. Alone in the inner courtyard, Perin pulled her close and kissed her lips softly. Once, twice, a third time. "Midwinter luck, Daine." He walked away, while she stood there a moment with a small smile.

What Daine didn't know that night was that Numair saw them by the fountain. He hadn't wanted to—he'd spend weeks wishing he could blast the image from his mind—but that was when he made the decision to step aside, because only her happiness was more important than his own.


	3. Chapter Oh hey I can change the title!

**A/N: ****Oh man has it been a month? Whoops. This **_**is**_** going somewhere! I just need to get there… **

**On Anjanka's question about Thayet, I based her sartorial exuberance on cannon… and then ran with it. In Lioness Rampant, she creates a new style so Alanna can be both feminine and still wear pants; in Emperor Mage, she gifted Daine with the wardrobe and the schooling in etiquette; and in Squire, she sports the open kimono-over-gown new style. I think she understands that social occasions are as political as, but different from the legal work of the day (running the kingdom, herding a bunch of cats…). Fashion can be as influential as making grand speeches. It's more than wearing pretty clothes; it's that taking care to dress up shows how important an occasion is. But I also think that Thayet, being the sort of woman who is as much at place in riding gear, would want to oh, encourage that dual ease in Daine. Do I see her as a matchmaker? No. Numair was just being paranoid. I don't think Thayet would have been actively pushing them together. Why seat them together? Daine is now an adult and can sit at the adults' table (vs. her placement in Dunlath) and really, where do you put a powerful mage but with the other powerful mages? Where to put Daine? Next to Numair. It was my way of saying that people already think of them as a duo…like a pair of pants-plural, but singular. Not that anyone but Lindhall has articulated this concept though—I think that everyone else, including Daine, took that intrinsic pairing for granted. **

**P.S. This storm is based on the March Monster that hit Duluth, MN a few years back—75 mile an hour winds caused drifts that buried two story houses**** and shut down the city for quite a few days, I can't imagine what it would have been like without snowmobiles or MNDot plows. Google it for pictures!**

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Split sleeves were not made for winter. Silk slippers weren't meant for snow. Daine curled up under a pile of cats and dogs and a martin and tried to stop shivering. Around her, the stable shuddered in the storm. She was on tinterhooks, half expecting to hear horns calling her to battle. Shouldn't she be happy? The way Miri and the other Riders talked about kisses made Daine expect…more. They were supposed to be exciting, all consuming, one of Miri's sillier friends even called it 'flying.'

Well, maybe because Daine knew what it was really like to fly, she just couldn't agree.

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The storm finally passed. On the east side of the palace, drifts blocked second story windows. War-horses were used to punch through the main palace roads, but most of the region was completely shut down. The sky remained clear, but it was so cold that Daine's eyelashes froze together and it hurt to breathe through her nose. Scanran weather, they called it. She had to agree, as she spent a lot of time treating frost bitten horses while the healers were treating frost bitten humans. The days blurred together, and the weather remained the same.

One evening, Daine was sitting council with Jon, Myles, Numair, a courier, and several weather mages. "None of my lads can go anywhere, half the city is still shut down, let alone outside the walls," the courier lamented.

"I'm still able to contact the mages, but only in the major cities and trade towns," Numair added, "There are too few far flung strong enough to send reports via crystal or mirror."

Myles said, "I've had messenger birds from my agents, but like Numair said, they're only in the towns. Too much of the country is cut off from us, and now these weather augurs are calling for even more snow? We won't know when they hit us."

"It's the wrong time of year for any migrations," Daine bit her lip, "and my range is only so far."

The king rubbed his face. "So, physically we're blocked, and magically we're limited. Numair how accurate would a running scry over the wild places be?"

"It would be difficult and costly. There are few strong enough, and even all together searching in quadrants we would need a whole day. Then two days' recovery."

Suddenly, Daine had an idea. She asked the courier, "You have way posts set up along the road, yes? To exchange horses and switch routes?"

"Aye, lady."

Her face lit up. "Then I think I have an idea. I can set up a chain, get eagles to talk to hawks to talk to owls, all on and on."

"Very good Daine," the king smiled a little. "If Myles would be so good as to set you up with an office, we'll have you get started. Numair, I'll need you to contact the other mages you'll use to scry. Maybe even contact the mages in the out-towns and cities and set up a chain like Daine's."

Then the meeting broke up. Daine tried to catch Numair's eye, but he left without looking at her. Then Myles was at her side. "Well, my dear, let's go set up a spy network."

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By the next morning, Daine had her own small office tucked in Myles' corridor. Ostensibly, here he ran his trade with a small army of clerks, but in reality this was the communication hub of the kingdom. Daine was a little intimidated by the efficiency she encountered, but her work would be different. Her's was a desk, quills, pen knife, black ink, blue ink, red ink, invisible ink, filing drawers, mage lamp, and most importantly, a window. Maps were tacked on to every spare space on the walls, with piles of colored push pins and soft pencils.

Pleased, Daine took Kitten out of the sling on her back. Holding the blue dragonet so she could meet her eyes, Daine said firmly, "Now you listen, you're here only as long as you behave. I've got toys in your bag that you can play with, and I'll be able to play with you sometimes, but I'm mostly going to be busy. No playing with the pushpins, or rifling through the papers, or drawing on the walls with invisible ink. Otherwise it's to the nursery you go."

Kit whistled her promise, eyes bright at the word 'toys.' Daine gave her a hug before setting her on the floor with her blocks and a toy horse.

With a sigh, she stood at the window and sent out her awareness.

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It took all the day to set up her network. The People were more than happy to help her, but the vast geographical space still took time to cover. She had to compensate for various birds' different ranges, which she roughly drew with pencils on the maps, labeling with names so she could quickly identify where trouble was.

Kitten was good; she only got in trouble once, when she found balls of colored twine in the back of a drawer. By the time she noticed her charge's antics, Kitten was in such a snarl it had taken Daine half a candlemark to get the dragonet untangled.

They were just cleaning up when there came a knock on the open door. Perin stood in the hallway. "Hullo Daine."

"Well met Perin."

"I looked for you at the Riders' stable when I got off work," he said, "but they said you were up here. Would you like to go get supper?"

Right then her stomach growled, and she smiled. "Sure, Kit and I were just getting ready." But here, Kitten was backing away from the clerk, pressing herself tight against Daine's shins. "What's this! Kit, come on be nice." Daine picked her up, saying, "This is Perin…he'll feed you." Rather than be reassured, Kitten twisted in Daine's grasp and gave the whistle-chirp that was her name for Numair.

Daine sighed at the dragonet. "Numair's working right now. He's probably too busy to eat even. Come on." But Kitten jumped down. She sprinted out between Perin's legs and ran off in the direction of the library.

Hands on her hips, Daine huffed, "Huh! She's never done that before." Then she left Kitten's bag next to her desk and said, "Let's go eat."

"Shouldn't you go after her or something?" Perin asked quietly.

"No, she'll be fine, but if she comes home tonight hungry, she'll just have to go to sleep hungry."

They headed down the hallway. Perin asked, "She'll find her way home?"

"Oh yes. There's just no going after her when she's in a mood, she has to come back on her own terms. Stubborn child." Then Daine realized she was quoting her mother.

Down in the common refectory, they grabbed trays, plied them with food, and found an open spot at a table. "So what did you do today?" she asked.

Perin waxed eloquent on a filing system. Daine listened with one ear and jumped when he asked her the same question, several minutes later.

"Well, I organized an information network with the People since there's too much of Tortall to be covered by mages alone."

"Go on." Perin's eyes shone.

Daine twisted her napkin in her lap. She couldn't explain too in-depth without people pulling back, and Perin was nice to be around…but he did ask. "I can only hear for a few miles, see, but all the People talk to each other already, so I asked my friends to speak with their neighbors and so on down the line. So if spidrens attack a village without a mage, the People pass on the message to me. Then we can send word to the nearest company to deal with the situation."

Perin thumped the table with a clenched fist. "Now see, that's amazing, and nobody will know about it. You and me both, our work is essential to this country, but we're so underappreciated because no one really pays attention to it."

Daine blinked. "I suppose you're right," she said, but thought _it's not like we do our jobs for glory._

Perin stood up. "Come on, let's go to the conservatory."

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The conservatory was a large glassed-in garden, where fountains played in the winding corners and mage lights glowed softly along the path. Daine was there once during the day to devise a way to keep birds from getting trapped inside or breaking their heads on the glass, but mostly it was a haunt of noble lovers. Perin took her hand and led her to a far cranny, to a delicate wrought iron bench beneath a flowering Carthaki vine. The heady scent triggered faint alarm bells in Daine's mind, but she kept the flashbacks at bay with an effort of will.

"You really are amazing, did you know?" Perin whispered as he stroked her cheek, seeing her smile and blush. He gathered her into a kiss, deepened it. There was no need to be so chaste this time, far from public. He pulled away slightly, kissing along her jaw and when she tilted her chin up, he kissed her neck. Curse the high buttoned blouse she wore.

Suddenly Daine gasped and lurched to her feet, head questing this way and that. There, beyond the glass, an owl flapped furiously to an earlier stop than planned.

_Glass! I barely saw it in time. Wing-sister! I bring news from Redtuft. _

"Shadowfall, thank you for coming so quickly." Owls spoke crisply and were oddly formal for the People. "What news?" Daine flickered through her mental catalogue of immortals.

_The Pike Ridge Pack has killed Man. The young alpha seems to believe that humans are now acceptable prey. _

"Oh no, no no no." Daine whispered to herself. "Thank you Shadowfall! Thank Redtuft and Snowswirl for following the chain." Here they'd been worried about ogres or unicorns when an already resident hunter was on the prowl. Deep as the snows were, surely they weren't out of food yet?

"What is it?" Perin cried as Daine hurried back up the path.

"Wolves!" she called over her shoulder, then she began to run. She had to find a way to stop this before they called a hunt.

**Another A/N: I don't want to brag but OMG you guys! Of Walls and Norms was nominated to the Ficship Competition! I feel like I've finally earned my nerd-cred, as tarnished as it gets by my redneckery. 3 3 3 hearts to all. I hope I keep on entertaining you all! ~Q. **


	4. Wolves and Carrion Crows

**I'****m not Tamora Pierce and though I've worked hard to make my plot indistinguishable from hers, obvs I'll fail because I'm not her, and this is not her work. Clear? Crystal. Enjoy!**

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Balancing on the edge of a stepstool, Numair stretched to adjust a spell equation currently taking up four chalkboards. He climbed down to rifle through a dusty tome, then turned back to read the script on the walls. Then he wiped his brow, leaving a dirty smear. A table, meticulously cleared of clutter, held a stoppered flask of wyverns' breath, a titration tube of flesh-eating unicorn saliva, and a beaker of liquefied spidren web. What was so corrosive about wyverns' breath? What made spidren silk so sticky? But he was very close to distilling an antidote for flesh-eating unicorn saliva. (The assassin George bought the saliva from was never heard from again). Having abandoned all attempt to recreate the barrier the previous week, he then focused on amplifying various protection spells, modifying early alert spells, and compiling tactical defense strategies for use against the various known immortals—a list of which was being ever built by the bevy of university students besieging the library.

Just then, Kitten galloped through the open door. She jumped onto his desk, and planted her forepaws on his chest. "Kit, what're you doing here?" Whistling, chirping, and clicking up a storm, her scales a sullen gray, she explained in her own way. Numair sat down in his chair and the dragonet promptly crawled into his lap. Cuddling, her scales regained their normal jewel-blue. Clucking her under the chin, he asked, "Where's Daine, sweet?" Kit immediately shifted down the gray-scale again, and she pressed two fingers together, wrinkling her nose. For a moment, Numair's face was blank with incomprehension, then his brows snapped together with an "Oh." The dragonet was miming kissing, never mind where she learned the gesture. He was lost to an echoing emptiness for a moment before he realized the gray dragon was of a similar sentiment. "Don't worry Kit, you'll always have me," he murmured. She rubbed her head along his jaw, remarkably like a cat. They sat quietly for a while.

Numair guessed at the depth of her discontent by how she wasn't trying to jump onto his workbench. "Would you like to hear a story?" The dragonet perked up and nodded, sitting at attention on his knee.

"Three years ago, before you were born and not long after I first met Daine, we were at Pirate's Swoop with the Riders, Alanna's family, and the Queen and Kally and Roald. All journey south, we had been spied on." His voice faltered as he saw Daine collapse again, feeling hopeless watching Alanna try to shock her heart back into rhythm. "And so, by the time we reached the Swoop, Ozorne's men set a trap. They drew out Alanna and half the men and surrounded us in the night. They sent dampening spells so no one could defend themselves and opened a portal so that stormwings would harry us. Well, what the Carthakis didn't know was that your mother was pulled through the portal also, and she was furious. They told her that I was responsible, and in her rage she attacked me. Imagine my surprise when the spell I sent at her had no effect!" Kitten chortled. "She waved it off like smoke and dove at me. But Daine knocked me over, protecting me while begging to your mother to not hurt me. Your mother broke off her attack, and Daine touched her to better communicate, but she could feel her wild magic being _pulled_ right out of her. Then they realized it was a great healing and that you were saved. You'd almost died crossing the barrier, and your mother was so ecstatic she flew off.

"But soon after that, the Carthakis attacked from land and sea, and all hope was lost. Then your mother came to our aid—she sank several ships…but…" And Numair wavered, doubting the prudence of this tale when Kitten already so glum, but she reached for his hand and squeezed it. He wondered if the dragonet remembered her mother's last screams. "But between the stormwings and the mages, she was killed. Yet she helped the kraken destroy the fleet while Daine's friends took care of the soldiers on land. We won, and Daine and I both slept for nearly three days. The whole time, she dreamed of you, and the first thing out of her mouth when she woke up was that we needed to get to the cliffs _right then_. That wasn't what I wanted to let her do, there were still soldiers in the woods, but she wouldn't listen!" _imagine that_ "And when we were along the cliffs, Daine fell right into your cave. That was how she became your ma." He poked her belly. She whistle-chirped and poked him in the chest.

He sighed and gently lifted Kitten off his lap. "I've got to get back to work, girl."

Instead, he found himself explaining the different parts of the spell. She couldn't ask questions, but he knew she understood as he described the various reactions that needed to occur and be taken into account. Most importantly, the amount of force necessary for this particular protection charm needed to be perfectly defined so that no one would attempt to cast it without enough strength. A small part of him felt foolish. For all he knew, the dragonet was just humoring him.

When Daine ran in, red faced and panting, Numair knocked a book off a shelf.

"What's wrong? Where?" He cried, nerves frayed from the constant wait.

Daine just shook her head, saying, "You're not going to believe it, but it's just wolves. Just wolves! Doing for us what we'd been watching for immortals for. Odds bobs!"

Numair deflated, all summoned energies released. Not yet, the attack still hadn't come yet. "You're going tonight to remedy the situation?"

"Yes, before…"

Before they killed again, before they were killed.

"Where, just in case?"

She met his eyes. "Obstruction, actually." She named a village a half-day's ride into the royal forest.

He knew she hated forcing her will onto the People. So he picked up the book and said, "Be careful. Hurry back."

Daine nodded and hugged Kitten, already at arm level on his desk. "You stay with Numair tonight, Kit; I might not be back til late." She trilled and waved. Then Daine swept out of the room.

Numair sat down in his chair, and Kitten tentatively crawled back into his lap. No goodbyes. He hated how she now went places he couldn't—his hawk eyes were useless in the dark. And he knew this was going to happen more and more often now.

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Daine as an owl flew to Obstruction within the hour, freed from the meandering mud track of a road. Shadowfall flew with her, and together they met with Redtuft, the screech owl so appalled by the pack's behavior.

_Men upturned like an ants' nest scare my game away, with it already skin and feather time as it is. This is __ridiculous. And they won't listen to anyone! Neither me nor Bear nor Lynx. This is worse than when Rabbit ate all the roses…_

Redtuft vented with an echoing screech.

_You're right Redtuft, _Daine placated the owl. If owls could blush, Redtuft would have. _I'll set this right._

Swooping through the trees, they came upon the pack feasting on a deer. Daine as an owl alit on a near branch and called, _Pack-brothers! You have committed a grave offence!_

Many members yelped and pulled back their ears. An owl was not pack, but she was more than that. They were already deeply uncomfortable with what they had done. But Strongjaw was proud. _And who commands me? Am I to listen to a wingwalker? Two leggers are prey like this deer, no better, no less. _

Daine sent images of a hunt. Strongjaw countered with images of his own hunt.

Daine showed him family, showed him society, and duty to others. She showed him how similar packs are to humans. Onua, Numair, and Kally, Roald, and Thom flashed between their minds. Still Strongjaw countered with barely remembered visuals and stories of his parents, his father was who the humans called Demon Grey, and how the hunt killed them both. This was his way, ruining families how his was ruined. The pack, leaderless, had been run out, until they were finally strong enough to take their home back. Now this was his revenge, to hunt them one by one.

She sighed and broke into his mind. She took in his pain, cast aside his explanations and wolfish rationalizations, and ordered him to let the darkness go. He had a pack to protect, not a vendetta to wage, she told him, standing over the prone belly of his psyche as he admitted her dominance.

Sliding gratefully back into her own mind, Daine took one last look at the Pike Ridge Pack to be sure that was the end of this. Finding no more opposition, she took off. She flew to the village, checking the situation within Obstruction. Candles were a luxury here—all the residents were asleep. Cats and dogs and mice reported that the village was angrily mourning the stolen infant, but they believed that nothing would be done if the pack stayed away. Such was life in the wild.

Grim but satisfied, Daine turned toward the palace. She bade Redtuft farewell, and flew on with Shadowfall.

Halfway, Daine's senses jangled with the approach of a stormwing.

"Well, well, my pretties, I don't know much about this world, but should a great grey be flying with a snowy owl?" a mocking voice called in the dark. "I think Ozorne is going to _looooove_ this."

Set to flee, Daine landed at that name. She formed a voice, "And what's he got to do with the price of peas in Persopolis?" Human-headed and owl-winged, she looked like a kind of stormwing in the moonlight.

He took a deep breath. "Oh I do love the taste of fresh fear. It's why I so love being a scout. You, precious, have no idea how much Ozorne has to do with this. He's looking for you, and not just for you. Where's Longshanks? Is he the great grey?"

Suddenly, Shadowfall attacked from behind, his silent wings lending him surprise, but the stormwing hacked swiftly across. Daine shot forward and slashed his throat with her talons. They all fell to the ground.

"So Ozorne's not dead yet?" She squeezed. "Don't worry, I'll send him to you quick so you can tell him you saw me."

Once the stormwing was dead, Daine looked for Shadowfall. He laid cut in two.

Daine lost hold of her shape and stumbled naked in the snow. Reaching for all of her magic, she held his great body together, his blood dark against the pale drifts. Dying is a process—when stopped right at the threshold, sometimes she could reverse it. She concentrated harder than ever…and let out a sob of relief when Shadowfall became whole.

"You wonderful bird, oh you marvelous creature. No more excitement for you."

_We got him! All of my chicks shall know of this. _He experimentally stretched out each wing. _But you're right, no more excitement for me._

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When Daine knocked on Numair's lintel, the candles were considerably lower, but he was still awake. He jumped out of his chair when she knocked, saying, "Thank the gods, you were gone so long…"

She swallowed. "I've got bad news."

~Q.

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**A/N: To everyone who added this to their favs and story alerts, aww! I'm blushing. Should I apologize for letting this go so long between updates? (I'm still debating whether it's megalomania to think anyone really cares that much, but I'm a modest Minnesotan so there you go) I was having such trouble with the bridge—this has direction, I swear!—and I finally figured it out after staring at the ceiling for an hour. I hope it doesn't seem like cheating saving Shadowfall, but Daine did heal a decapitated owl in WM so, unlike zombies, they're not caput after a severed spinal cord. Anyways, I have at least a two more chapters in this set to write. I'd say they'll be uploaded soon, but I thought that about this one, and the last one, and well…it depends on how well my brain cooperates. **

**(and Karina Just Me, that's a big compliment! Pretty much all I took from TP was her characters, setting, and a few choice phrases that I hold near and dear. Odds bobs being one of them… ahem. But the plot is my own darned into the holes left by those dastardly editors with abysmal expectations, rrr. I can only hope that TP will publish an anthology along the lines of Charlaine Harris' short Sookie stories. Cuz I'd buy about ten.)**


	5. Trigger Warning

**Trigger Alert**

Numair's ears were ringing. As Daine recounted what the stormwing scout had said, battle shone behind her eyes. He saw with wonder that she was as ready to rip out Ozorne's throat as she was last autumn. Then he realized so was he. Gone was his old fear, burned away when Ozorne dared touch her.

"So he's still alive, and he's after us," she finished.

Anger flared higher. "I won't let him take you again."

Daine blinked at his vehemence and shook her head. "I don't think you'll have to worry about me. I was only a way to get at you. Just a pawn, not the object."

Numair shook his head. Light bent around him as his fury grew. "No, now you're the other one who got away. The fact that we—the fact that he knows-" he stumbled, then put it in less personal terms, "He knows to get one is to get to the other. He's mad, Daine. He needs no logical reasons."

Seeing him now was like a glimpse of the man she saw while drugged with dreamrose. She waivered on the edge of a flashback and threw her arms around him. "Well I wont let him get you either." After a moment's hesitation, he held her tight. Solid and steady, her face pressed against his chest, she beat back the echoes of his execution with every heartbeat thundering in her ear. All at once, the fight left her. She wanted no war, nor killing, and tears came to her eyes with a desperate wish that none of this had to happen, had never happened. Tears came not for her, but for her best friend, who had gone through so much already. She knew that Numair's hands had healed so poorly that Alanna had had to rebreak every finger so they would reheal straight, and there were still scars under that shirt.

But when she snuffled, Numair comforted _her_. "Oh Daine, shh, he won't be able to abduct you again, not here, not now…" So she pulled back a little and shook her head while she wiped her eyes. "Not me, Numair, I'm not crying for me." She traced his worst scar over his shirt, then rested her forehead against his chest rather than meet his eyes.

Kitten chirped from the desk, tugging her ma's sleeve. "C'mere Kit," Daine sniffed. She picked the dragon up and Numair held them both. Ozorne had taken her too.

He had too much to say to that, so instead he put a shaking hand on her hair. In fact, he was trying so hard to sort through his internal cacophony that they both jumped a foot when the king swept through the doorway.

"Numair I need you to go over this—ah." Jon stopped when he saw their flushed faces and Daine's bright eyes.

Numair pinched the bridge of his nose. "Whatever you came to say must wait, Jon. You need to call council—everyone needs to know."

Jon's handsome face folded into a scowl as he reevaluated the situation.

"Ozorne's organized the stormwings, we don't know yet how many, but he's after us."

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The news, though unwelcome, didn't much affect the preparations. In the dead of winter, all they could do was plan and consider the time to plan a blessing. Battle tactics were drawn up, new defensive spells were taught, protective charms were mass produced, and supplies were ordered. Daine's winged spies reported several more stormwing scouts, but no Company or Group was able to find them. There was much activity, but little action, and as January drew to a close, Daine's nerves began to fray.

So it was with a bit of exasperation on Daine's part when her friends made noises about giving her a birthday party. She might have been able to talk them out of it, but she was turning sixteen, and sixteen on a Saturday to boot, which meant they could sleep off their excesses the next morning without worrying about work.

When Thayet approached Daine with plans for a birthday luncheon, the young woman cried, "I can't take it! I can't accept this! There's so much to do and no time to do it and nothing to do all at once, how can I sit and talk and pretend everything will be fine?"

Thayet frowned, and put down her notes. Gazing at Daine with steady eyes, she replied, "We know better than to think everything will be fine—that's why we do this now, while we can." When Daine looked down, the queen chucked the girl's chin. "Have fun while you can, or at least let others have fun."

"I don't think I remember what fun is," Daine mumbled.

Thayet blinked, rethinking just how badly affected Daine was by the events in Carthak. So she rose with a smile and said, "Well then, you're coming with me. You and Kalasin are just begging to be ambushed with snowballs."

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The luncheon was very low keyed, filled with Daine's closest friends of this circle. Numair gave her a new writing kit. "Since you're forever raiding my supplies," he said with a grin. Alanna gave her new arm- and wrist-guards for archery. Onua gave her a small Horse Lords idol for her loft. Myles gave her a bottle of his best apple-wine, for "medicinal-purposes" with a chuckle that went round the room.

That evening, Evin, Miri, and Perin pulled her out of the palace down to an eating house in the city. There a mass of Riders and Perin's friends waited, made friendly by drink and dancing. The band played a different pace than the formal, courtly music she was used to, and Perin had to show her the steps, but Daine quickly loved it. The pipes and fiddle swept up her blood with the sweet honey mead and the rich ale her friends kept pressing into her hands. Perin held her far closer for these songs than the formal, courtly dances she was used to, and the places their bodies touched seemed to spark and flare.

Here, no gifts were exchanged (beyond Evin reciting one of the ballads about her and the kraken, which she would have gladly given back) but a communal momentary release from the threat of war. And Daine finally understood that this was different than the forced, veiling politeness of the peace talks, this really was celebration. So as her cheeks glowed brighter, and she and Perin left the public house for the palace, she decided to take Thayet's advice.

Giggling, stumbling slightly, she decided to let Perin up to her loft when he escorted her home. Laughing, fumbling somewhat, they doffed their warm winter clothes. She shivered when he ran a finger along her collarbone, the only skin exposed by the high cut of her blue wool dress. She skipped away from him, laughing, "I'm under royal decree to have fun tonight, did you know?" And she used a glowstone to find her flint. The candles she lit set her face aglow, and Perin couldn't believe his luck. He went to her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close, pulling her down to her bed. He covered her face with kisses, along her jaw, down her neck. One hand wound through her curls, his other trailed down her side. They kissed hungrily for quite some time, but when he untied the bow on her back, she pushed his hand away.

He groaned, lips moving against her neck, "Please Daine, you're killing me."

"Come on, Perin, we're having fun." Her mind was fuzzy; it was difficult to articulate thoughts.

"Mhm—and we'll have even more fun in bit." He reached behind to start loosening her laces.

She pushed his hand away again. "I said _no_."

"No you didn't. Your lips are saying one thing," and he rolled on top of her. "But your body says another." His lips crushed down against hers, insistent.

_If only he just wanted to keep kissing_, she thought, doubting, _I don't want to stop, it feels good, not _that!

Perin's weight was pinning her down, but he had one hand beneath her, tugging at laces. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She tried shoving him off but he was stocky, far heavier than she was. "Perin let me up, I can't breathe." Couldn't think, her mind felt muffled in cloth, he felt good but she didn't want to go any further. He didn't move, just kissed her deeply, and now his hand caressed her bare back.

"Not that," she tried to say, heart pounding more from fear than pleasure now. She tried to think of claws but couldn't. She tried to think of wings, but couldn't. She tried again to shove him off, wildly now, _trapped!_ He tried to pin her arms.

Panic seared clear her brain, and she remembered self defense training with Onua. Quickly, Daine grabbed Perin's collar and with her other hand, shoved his head under her forearm. Then she used that hand to pull down on his shirt. The bony part of her wrist dug into his neck, her hold firm on his collar, she was able to use his shirt as a noose.

_Ack_ing, he tried to get away, but Daine held until his face turned purple and he was on the verge of passing out. Then she shoved him off her bed. He rolled dangerously close to the edge of the loft, but at that moment she didn't care. She stalked over to him, coughing on his hands and knees, a thundercloud on her forehead.

"Get out." She threw his coat at him. "And next time a female says no, respect it. Don't rely on your puny powers of perception."

He left.

She collapsed onto her bed and cried.

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"Daine!" Too early.

"Daine! Get up!" Thunder.

"Daine! Killer unicorns!" She bolted upright as Onua opened her loft door. Then the splitting hammer of a hangover bludgeoned her overhead.

"I'll be right down, will you saddle Cloud?" She groaned through gritted teeth.

With a nod, her friend disappeared down the steps. Once dressed, Daine followed. In the stall, Onua offered her a pancake-wrapped breakfast sausage, and Daine had to force her stomach not to rebel.

"Rough night?" Onua asked with a wicked grin, but quickly changed her expression when Daine rested her forehead against her pony.

"Bad night," she whispered, then took a shuddering breath and explained to her oldest friend.

Onua's lips got tighter and tighter and she hugged the girl's shoulders when Daine finished. "That pig. You handled it well though." When Daine still hung her head, Onua sighed. "Next time, don't let them into your room. It gives them all the wrong ideas. Should it? No," she growled, "but it'd be safer just the same. In fact, it might be a good idea to not let them even know where you live."

"I just can't believe I liked him, I mean, well enough."

Onua shook her head. "Well, most men are pigs when you get down to it."

Just then, Numair stumbled into the stable. His eyes were puffy and red, and he stifled a yawn even as he ate a breakfast sandwich.

"Didn't sleep?" Onua asked wickedly.

He shook himself roughly, as if to wake up more, and replied with slightly awestruck tones, "No I was up most of the night with Haneline _mumble mumble_ never heard such novel ideas."

Daine threw her hands over her ears and cried, "I _don't_ want to hear it." Let's kill some monsters, she raved, anything but this. "Is Spots ready?" Onua shook her head, so Daine stalked down to the tack room.

Numair blinked. "What did I say?"

Onua just let out a short breath through her nose. "Poor girl's hungover today. It's onto her if she wants to say anything more."

Gravely, Numair _hmph_ed, and retied his long hair.

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It was a hard, cold ride into the royal forest. They traveled half a day to rendezvous with a Rider group in a river town called Gladstone. After the lunch/tactical meeting, they fanned out to track down the herd. They had attacked a lumbercamp, killing twelve in the attack while four of the five men who escaped fell into a fever and died from poisoned bites. From the ruined logging camp, they tracked the herd for the rest of daylight. One of the killer unicorns was badly injured—silvery blood splashed more and more. In the pearly winter twilight, they found its body, the woodcutters' ax blows eventually proving fatal.

They gathered around to examine the body—its horrid front facing eyes and staying away from its open, fanged mouth. Daine dismounted, then spun as her immortal sense flared. The herd surrounded them.

"Did we know they could set traps?" Daine asked Numair, who stood ready at her side. He tightly shook his head and together they attacked. Arrow after arrow, bolt after bolt, together with the Riders' archers, they tried to hold off the herd. There were more than originally reported. The Rider on Daine's other side went down as a killer unicorn gored him through the belly. It snapped at her arm before Numair shouted something incomprehensible and the beast turned into ash. Daine kept shooting, and soon the two remaining killer unicorns fled. She caught one in the neck—it dropped like a stone, while Numair turned the other to ash as well.

Shaking with the aftereffects of adreneline, Daine lowered her bow. Numair was panting, sweaty, and loose strands of hair stuck to his cheek. Daine turned to try to tend to the fallen Rider and realized she was bleeding.

"Oh no," she whispered.

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**A/N: Ok, how did I extrapolate an attempted rape from the word 'persuasive' ? ****Mostly because I felt Daine needed a reason for her pretty abysmal expectations, and as a survivor, I feel like I can relate. Let me explain—having that choice taken away from me, I coped by pretty much never saying no…that way no one could take what I was already giving freely. Daine, having heard and seen nothing but 'Men are opportunistic horn-dogs' reinforced over an over, came to accept that as truth. "We're not talking about love? What are we talking about—canoodling?" has to be the most painful passage I've ever read coming from a protagonist. She, uncomprehending, tried to play the roles she knew at the time. I do plan to write some sweet sweet fluff tracking the deconstruction of those old ideas. Not to mention the three (three!) one shots I already have written on my computer. Ahem. (Yes I avoided writing this particular chapter, but it's vitally important in my mind) Anyways. Yes. Um. **

**To Blown: Thank you for your reviews! Knowing you were there helped me get this updated faster. (Plus I always write better when I'm dead dog tired, and I'm on three hours of sleep today…which might explain any unnecessarily choppy sections.) **

**~Q.**


	6. Venom and Paint

"Oh no."

The fear in her whisper jolted right through him. She took off her coat, and he saw the blood welling through her torn sleeve. He met her horror-struck eyes and slipped into a clear crisis mindset. "We need to rinse this off, immediately," he told her quickly. He used his diminished Gift to melt handfulls of snow, over and over. He rapidly outlined the situation to the Group leader, they needed to leave the clean up and hurry—no flee to the palace.

"Wh-what of the ride-de home?" Daine stuttered through chattering teeth. Her wet shirt would soon freeze.

The Group leader pulled out a dry wool sweater from their provisions. Both men looked away while Daine pulled the soaked shirt over her head and put on the sweater. Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she threw aside her quilted coat; the poison was also in the fabric. Her eyes were steady as she swung into Cloud's saddle. Spots whickered as Numair scrambled into his saddle. At least their path home was already broken.

He met her eyes, everything sharp to his crystalline senses, and saw the terror tightly controlled by her disciplined mind. As they left, pushing the horses as fast as they dared, he told her, "We'll get you through this, Daine." His mind ran over everything he'd learned about venom thus far, and he contacted Lindhall.

In the moments before Lindhall answered, he hurriedly told Daine about the anti-venom he'd been working on. He didn't tell her how the poison worked both physiologically and magically to paralyze the muscles and nerves, or that he had never actually tested the anti-venom—nor was he entirely sure of the correct dosage…and the wrong dosage would kill her.

From his fist, sounding far away, Lindhall called, "Numair? What's wrong?"

"Daine was bit. Get Baird, get Harailt, get Alanna, get every great mind and get them to my workroom, my notes and a measure of anti-venom are there. Try to finish it."

"Does it work?" Lindhall cut straight to the point.

He did not want Daine to hear this… "I don't know."

When they reached Gladstone, they switched horses. As Numair rapped out their need to the hostler, Spots and Cloud were visibly upset, butting Daine as she brushed their foreheads with her good hand. Already her right hand was grossly swollen. Numair had to help her onto the courier horse because she couldn't grip the saddle horn. He quickly mounted and they rushed off, the provided lantern showing the way.

He calculated the whole way, never letting himself think of what would happen if he failed.

Though the winter night was frigid—the sky was clear overhead, the stars seemed close enough to touch—Daine's face was covered with sweat when the lights of Corus joined with the stars at the horizon.

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Inside the warm stables—too hot on their windburned cheeks—Numair scrambled off the courier horse, stumbling a little over stiff and numb legs. Daine dismounted awkwardly, to his rising panic. The hostlers rushed forward to care for the mounts, as every horse in the stable craned his or her neck out. Daine took two steps before stumbling, grabbing his arm to keep upright. He heard her whisper, "Numair, the floor is moving," so he picked her up and hurried back out into the cold. He didn't let himself think about how light she was, or how hot already her cheek felt against his neck.

Baird and Lindhall met them near the healing ward, and he let them lead they way. "It's barely more than a nick, thank the gods she had such a heavy coat on, and I rinsed it immediately," he reported a little breathlessly as they hurried down the corridor.

"It's entirely possible she'll survive without the anti-venom then," Baird said, showing him into a prepared ward. Numair laid Daine down on the bed, then pulled off her boots. He averted his eyes when Baird peeled off her sweater, deftly replacing it with a loose robe. Then Baird examined the wound. It was already grossly swollen and bruised. The green light of Baird's Gift flared, while Lindhall and Numair watched helplessly. After a few moments the light dimmed, and Baird said to Numair, "You know I cannot heal unicorn fever, their venom _is_ part magic—it repels any healing magic—however I _can _bolster her immune system. It may be enough. The danger lies in keeping the fever high enough to combat the venom but not so high that her own tissues are at risk."

He nodded, he knew this. "How long?" he croaked.

"We won't know yet."

Daine blinked, and coughed. "Can I have some water?"

For four days, Daine lay coughing in the ward. Sometimes she slept, tossing restlessly with fever dreams. Between shrieking nightmares and racking coughs, her voice was soon a ragged end. Baird began giving her sleep spells so she could rest. The whole while, Numair was there. They talked when she was awake, though as she lost her voice, he provided most of the dialoge, and he worked when she was asleep, which was happening more and more each day. Finally, Baird's bleak eyes after another examination told Numair everything. Her body was failing. They needed to risk the anti-venom soon. Baird motioned for Numair to follow him into the corridor. As he started to heave his dread-deadened limbs out of his chair, Daine touched his hand.

"Don't worry. I'm not afraid. I've died before, remember?" She whispered.

"_You fiend!" Shaking her, holding her tight._

"I've seen it, Numair—a green valley, a cottage, a garden, wood smoke rising in the twilight, and my ma and da." She smiled; sweat making her hair stick to her cheeks. "My da has _horns_." And she laughed a horrible broken rasp that turned into a cough. Wincing, she held the pillow to her chest in a vain attempt to ease the pain. He offered her a cup of water, supporting her shaking hand. She was already so weak…

She drank a little and fell back. "What I'm trying to say, Numair, is that there's no pressure. You can focus. Try, but don't be afraid of it not working. I'll be fine either way." Her eyes closed, so she didn't see the tears spill down his cheeks.

_Don't go Daine—don't go where I can't follow._

He had composed himself by the time he met Baird in the hallway—there was no other option now, he needed a clear head.

"We can't delay much longer," Baird said grimly.

Numair nodded. "An idea came to me—your first plan was to strengthen her immune system, would it be possible to bind the anti-venom to her immune system? Make it so her body knows what to track? The concept originally was to administer deadened venom to bind nihilistically with the active venom, but now I wonder—"

Baird cut him off eagerly, nodding. "Yes, and if we…" Together talking, they hurried to Numair's workroom, where Lindhall was already preparing.

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Numair watched, sick with worry, as Baird injected the anti-venom into Daine's inflamed, purpling arm. She didn't even notice—she was gone in a fever dream, sweat-soaked hair plastered to her hollow cheeks, eyes moving restlessly beneath her lids.

_Not like this. If this doesn't work, I don't want this to be my last memory._

Baird gently laid Daine's arm on the bed. "Well, we should know by tomorrow if this is working. Either way…"

Numair nodded, eyes on his heart, and Baird quietly left the room.

It was evening now, and he knew he should think about eating soon. He knew she'd be shoving him toward the kitchens now, if she were awake. He left the room in a daze. Smiling, he realized she had bullied him into eating ever since she had found him as a hawk. Why was he shocked when he realized he loved her? It had come as no surprise. And here he'd been balking inside, _too soon—too young_ when it might be too late.

Her wasted face swam to his eyes. He hastily shoved the image away. He didn't want to remember her like this.

Instead of the mess, he found himself at an artist's door. He hesitated, half-ashamed, and then knocked. Volney Rain could think whatever he wanted, but as any good court artist, he had long ago learned to keep his opinions—and clients—to himself.

The painter opened his door, took one look at Numair, and without a word let the mage in. Numair sank into the comfortable, fashionable chaise as Master Rain sat down across from him. The painter seemed to be evaluating the situation, weighing what to say, when Numair spoke with hollow voice.

"I wasn't fast enough, and the unicorn got her. I didn't protect her, and now she may be dying."

Master Rain held up a hand. "There's no need to explain, and no reason to feel guilty. You did all you could and more, from what I hear."

Numair swallowed, not meeting the painter's eyes. "I just don't want this to be how I remember her."

"I'll have something ready for you tomorrow."

Numair nodded and fled.

Volney Rain was left wondering why he hadn't come sooner.

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**A/N: So you get one more update to wait for…sorry! ****:P**


	7. Past Time

Numair couldn't brave the clamorous mess hall; instead he took his tray and returned to Daine's room. All through the evening, friends stopped by, quietly trying to make conversation with him, but with Daine unconscious, he could hardly string a sentence together. Lindhall finally threatened him with a sleeping draught after the midnight call, and Numair took firmer control of himself once more.

"You'll do no service for her if you yourself become ill." Lindhall said gently, but with iron in his voice.

"You're right, but no draughts."

Lindhall scrutinized his former student, but nodded and left.

What is it about the thoughts that come when we should be asleep? There is a certain fever quality to the mind's dialog during a sleepless vigil. Using a pair of tiny silver scissors, Numair carefully, caringly cut a fine lock of Daine's curly hair. Then he settled himself and let his mind roam.

When the first faithful birds began to herald the dawn, Numair was startled out of a near trance by a quiet knock. Taking a low candle to the door, he opened it onto a pale, desperate Perin. The clerk nearly fled at the sight of the mage, whose dark features were rendered severe by stress. But Perin was more afraid of his conscience, so he entered when Numair held the door for him.

Numair ceded the nearest chair to Perin, wondering why he hadn't come sooner.

Perin watched Numair settle into corner chair, sure that he was there because he didn't trust him.

This uneasy truce continued as the skies turned grey and pearly pink, while the birdsong swelled into a cacophony outside the window. Then there came another knock. Numair heaved himself out of the chair to answer the door. A young runner held a small package for him. He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. A coin dispelled the lad, and a paper cut broke the unmarked wax seal. There, wrapped in fine paper, lay a tiny portrait of a glowingly healthy Daine, her hair a wild nimbus around her smiling face.

Thus it came to be that the first face Daine saw after regaining consciousness belonged to Perin the clerk.

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Daine's recovery was long. She remained bedridden for nearly two weeks after she woke up, frightened by how weak she felt. But the forced rest gave her plenty time to think. She found she enjoyed the power, the desire, that she could…surprisingly…wield over the boys, and now she felt understood the dangers inherent with any power. She just had to be more careful, to maintain control always, and to never let anyone get the upper hand over her. She forgave Perin, but she also sent him away. The way to do this, to still hold sway, meant she needed to keep distance. Dancing, kissing, yes. Being followed by wondering eyes, yes. She smiled. Like Onua said, keep them at a distance. Perin had thought that her exclusivity meant something more serious than she'd been willing to give just yet. But dancing? Kissing? Yes.

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The winter waned with a flurry of war preparations by day and parties by night. Perin still tried to increase his presence in her life, but she saw no one outside of social events. She rather thought she was compartmentalizing her life fairly well. Work was work, readying the supplies for the Riders' mounts, collecting information from her far-flung network of birds and bats, and with the help of Numair, devising charms and healing salves for the People, the horses, dogs, and birds, who served the Crown. Play was play, usually with a raucous crowd in the city, but on the Equinox, the Crown held a large party in the conservatory, in expectation of spring. It was unsaid, but most knew that come actual spring, they would be fighting.

Daine, spirits high, was dancing with yet another young man, a Rider whose name she couldn't recall just then, when she saw Numair sitting on a half-concealed bench with a lady—her blonde hair elegantly woven through a golden net, her fine pink gown cut low. Daine missed a step, and the Rider had to recover quickly.

"Are you alright?" He asked, the picture of chivalry.

Daine bit her lip, and shook her head. "I think I'm done dancing for the moment." He gallantly danced her out of the throng.

"Can I get you—?"

She cut him off, "Thank you, no." She bobbed a fraction of a curtsy and disappeared into the crowd.

She had just gotten used to seeing him alone, that was all. No need to be upset. No, this isn't upset. With a last flourish, the musicians finished the set, and Daine was buffeted by the volume of the applause. The sheer number of people milling, jostling, surrounding her made her nervous, her breath came short. She pushed her way through and hurried into the garden. Once calmer, she walked over to Numair.

The lady saw Daine coming and asked the mage, "So this is your student?"

He replied, "My former student now," with a quick smile up at her. Turning back to the noblewoman, he explained, "Daine has learned everything I can teach her. Whatever discoveries she makes yet will be of her own findings."

"Yes, I suppose it would be rather convenient when studying biology to hear the voices of your subjects." The lady drawled slightly.

Daine flushed a little, saying "But they're hardly subjects, milady. Nor are they experiments. The People are people."

"I see," she said drily. "And, well, I also see a dear old friend. I will leave you two to it." With a sigh of silks, she was gone.

Seeing Daine ever so slightly wrinkle her nose at the departing woman's back, Numair swallowed a chuckle. At the sound, Daine turned to him, upset. "And since when have I been your _former_ student? I should think I'd be the first to hear it." Did she…did she look _lost?_

"I—I thought that you knew," Numair said, upset she was upset, "Daine, here, please sit." She reluctantly ceased looming over him. "You've long since exceeded my expertise in wild magic."

"But when did you make this decision?" Daine asked softly.

"When you showed such mastery in Carthak." He replied, equally soft.

She flinched. He twitched, wanting so badly to wrap an arm around her. "But—so what does this mean about us?" She asked hesitantly. Numair almost choked. "I mean, will I be working on my own now? I'd hate to deprive Cloud of Spots' company."

Numair spoke around a stubborn knot in his chest. "It means that you're now capable of working alone, as you have been. But in reality, we continue as we have for the last several months. When and where I can, I go with you." The relief on her face was beautiful. "My diminutive '-let' now only refers to your stature, magelet."

She nudged his arm, asking, "And _what_ does diminutive mean?"

"'To make small' would be most precise." He said contritely.

"You are a treat." She said drily, but there was a smile on her face still.

After a moment, one where neither heard the music, talk or laughter of the crowd, Numair asked lightly, "So what did you come over to say before I so rudely distracted you?"

"Oh I came to rescue you. _Another_ buxom blonde, Numair?" She looked away.

Eyebrows raised, he drawled, "Hark who I hear? You, who have had six partners in dance tonight?"

"What can I say?" She replied equally, falsely, light, "I learned my lessons well."

Nearly sucked down into a black maelstrom of rustling sheets and moonlight, Numair quickly rapped out, "Whatever my past behavior has been, it must be taken as a _cautionary_ lesson." Shame spread as a blush on his cheeks, and he turned his face away.

After a frozen moment, he heard Daine quietly ask, "Past?"

"_I_ am in no need of rescuing, though I must thank you for scaring off that vulture so efficiently." He was able to look at her again, barely.

She grinned up at him. "And there's no need for you to go into a paroxysm of overprotectiveness either. Tonight is just dancing."

"Well, I'll just have to refrain from paroxysms, but it surely wouldn't hurt to remind every young buck just who has your back." He stood and held out his hand. She took it with a laugh.

**Merry Christmas, my ducks. **


	8. Pipes and Drums

The troop of Players at the Barrel and Board were sweating on the stage. Not that they were afraid of getting throat cut or robbed, mind. The Barrel and Board was packed to the rafters, and the music they played was fast and hot. The crowd was filled with folk come down from the palace to spin some last frantic bit of enjoyment before the thaw came. The Players knew. So the Players played, arms aching, fingers raw, ignoring the sweat in their eyes, and took stock while they could, for folk clutched their purses tight during wartime.

Daine whirled in the arms of the clerk, cheeks flushed and sore from laughing. Then that pounding song ended, and she caught a glimpse of Miri toasting her from the bar. She slipped away from Perin and wove through the crowd.

"Where's your other half, Mir?" Daine called as she reached the empty stool next to her friend.

"Getting into trouble," Miri said with a wave of an ale-filled hand.

Daine raised her eyebrows and turned to hand a coin to the barkeep. So Evin was off on an assignment for George.

"So what about you Daine? Are _you_ getting into trouble?" Miri's eyebrow wagged wickedly.

Daine snorted into her mug. "You tell me. D'you see anyone worth having?"

The girls scanned the crowd. Daine made eye contact with a ruggedly handsome lad standing at a table not far from the edge of the dancing crowd. The remnants of a tan declared him a working man, and the muscles that filled out his shirt suggested he worked hard. Daine met his eyes over a swig of ale, and made a point to look away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lean towards the man next to him.

Daine unobtrusively read his lips. "Who's that?" He asked his friend, pointing with his light eyes. she took the opportunity to catch his eye again.

She couldn't mistake the calculating look on the friend's face as he said, "Daine Sarrasri, the Wild Mage. Don't bother"

He lifted his eyebrows slightly and turned a little. "Why not?"

His friend leaned back somewhat. "She's a slut who won't put out. She'll kiss anything in breeches-"

"Anything?" he said with a leer at Miri.

"Anything. But she saves everything else for that Carthaki mage, the tall one."

He turned back and looked appraisingly at Daine, before tossing his head. "Eh, I'd be willing to share, but I won't waste my time. There's nothing big enough to be worth copping a feel." His eyes roved on.

Daine, sickened, looked for Perin in the crowd, but he was dancing with a buxom red head. She put down her tankard and turned away.

"Daine?" Miri asked quietly, "you ok?"

"Ya. This just suddenly isn't fun anymore. I'm going to call it a night."

Miri put down her ale too and said, " Alright, I'll walk back with you."

"Don't leave early just because of me!"

She snorted. "What else am I here for but you? The warm ale? The sweatbath? Dont be silly."

Out in the cold, clean air, Daine shook off her discomfort. They walked companionably in silence for a while, before she asked haltingly, "Mir, how are things with Evin?"

Her friend got that familiar misty expression, one that was starting to cause a thwang in a hollow place behind her lungs, and said quietly, "Tell you the truth, we're talking about getting betrothed."

Daine gasped, "Betrothed! But what about the Riders?"

"Well, it's be a long betrothal," Miri sighed. "But as it comes down to it, Evin might start full time for George. And, well...I wouldn't want to be gallivanting all over the country if we were to start a family." Her voice turned wistful. "I can finally see myself wanting to keep a home, if it's _his_ home." Then she laughed, "It's not like I'd ever have to worry about boredom!"

Daine laughed with her friend, and after a moment, replied, "...Oh glory." After a few moments, she hesitatingly asked, "How did you know Evin was something special? I mean when you first started out."

The light from the streetlamps in the Temple District showed Miri's thoughtful expression. "Well, we were friends almost right away. You know how he can make everyone feel welcome, and he gave me the encouragement I so desperately needed then. Goddess, but he gave it in such a way as like I didn't _need _encouragement, because I so obviously _could _do it, could be a Rider. And then, I've always been impressed by his competence. He is an _incredible _Rider." Miri turned a predatory grin at Daine, saying, "Maybe I am a bloodthirsty savage, but I'll be the first to admit that I'm attracted to how deadly dangerous he can be."

Daine, internally, was a little surprised that she could agree. "How did you go from 'friends' to 'woah' though?"

Miri snickered. "You might think less of me, but it was sheer physical attraction. One day it hit me... in the chest like, like a tree branch at full gallop in the dark. We were on a mission, covered in mud, freezing cold, and he reached down to pull me up from my seat on the ground, and..." She paused and blew out a gusty sigh. "And just like that I was inches from his face, his blue eyes were beaming into mine, and I could feel his warmth radiating into me. And I smiled at him, he smiled at me, and then he said... 'You've got mud in your teeth, Mir.' I smacked him over the head with my maps," she explained over the sound of Daine's laughter, "and we went on our way. It was one thing when we were working together, but the next few weeks after that were agony otherwise. Then one day he asked if I would take a walk with him, and we were some ways into the Royal Forest when he grabbed my hand and said, 'Tell me if I'm not right.' Then he kissed me." Her smile faded somewhat as she went on. "Of course, Buri won't say anything so long as we keep our heads and mind the work, and I'm so happy that Evin's made squad leader, but we've had to deal with some vicious talk. I love working for the Queen, don't you doubt that, but I could easily be rid of some of the small-mindedness of my cohorts."

Daine's mood soured. "I don't know how I can understand the People better than most two-leggers, Mir." She shivered in the damp chill, and they walked on in silence.


End file.
